


The Magic Man

by Willow Mae (NelwynP)



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Gen, Multiple Personalities, Past Lives, Psych Ward, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29574294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NelwynP/pseuds/Willow%20Mae
Summary: All men contain several men inside them, and most of us bounce from one self to another without ever knowing who we are.--The Brooklyn Follies, Paul AusterDameon Ward is treating the most interesting patient. In the midst of documenting the rapid decline of the patient's mental state, things become intensely personal. Can a man who believes in science throw it all to the wind when confronted with something truly mystical?
Kudos: 2





	The Magic Man

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 Senshi/Shitennou ficathon.

> All men contain several men inside them, and most of us bounce from one self to another without ever knowing who we are.  
>  _ \--The Brooklyn Follies _ , Paul Auster

Dameon Ward shrugged into his labcoat and took the clipboard from the nurse waiting in his office. “How is he today?”

“A little more lucid, but still unstable.” she smiled wanly. “At least he didn’t try to knock anyone out this time.”

“I see.” Dameon grimaced and made a note on the chart in his hand. “Thank you.”

The halls were white. The doors were white, and the floors, and the chairs and tables and beds. The windows were all barred and the lights flickered in sickly shades of green and yellow fluorescent. St. Dymphna’s Psychiatric Clinic looked fresh from a movie set in stereotypical blandness. Dameon walked past room after room, stopping near the end of the hall and peering inside briefly. The occupant sat stiffly on the bed, hands resting ready on his knees. When Dameon knocked he made no move but to turn his head, blue eyes with piercing intensity staring through the peephole. Dameon unlocked the door and eased himself into the room.

“Hello. My name is Dr. Ward. And you are?”

The man’s fingers curled and relaxed on his knees and he took his time in answering. “Why am I your captive if you don’t know who I am? I could be anybody. Would you kill me if I was worth nothing?”

“No one is going to be killed.” Dameon chose his words carefully. “There was....an incident. You are here to heal. Can you tell me what you remember?”

“Doctor Ward...” the two men stared at each other until the blond man seemed to come to a conclusion and settled back, tension leeching from his stance. “You have a face that is familiar to me, though I can not quite place it. I am Tuon of Elysia, Warden of the East. I serve...” he faltered briefly, a clouded look on his features as he once more scanned Dameon’s face. “...I....I must have fallen in battle, though I cannot seem to recall.”

Dameon made a note on his clipboard. “That is what I am here to help you with, Tuon. To help you remember, in this place of healing. Let’s start with something simple. Do you know what the year is?”

“It is year 310 after the Fall.”

Dameon made another note. “Good. And do you know who James Parson is?”

“I do not.” A pained look crossed Tuon’s face. “...Should I?”

A final notation. “I do not want to stress you, Tuon. Do not try to rush your healing, let memories come naturally. Can you write?” The man nodded hesitantly. “Good. I will leave you some paper, and I want you to write down everything you can remember of your time prior to waking here. We’ll use that as a starting point, and build from there. Can you do that for me?”

“I trust you. I shall do as you ask.”

Dameon pulled some fresh paper from the back of the clipboard and placed it on the desk. There was already a stack of papers there, which he gathered neatly and placed in his folder. “I will return tomorrow and we’ll go over what you’ve written and start working towards getting you better.”

He let himself out, locking the door again behind him.

***

Dameon Ward shrugged into his labcoat and took the clipboard from the nurse waiting in his office. “How is he today?”

“He’s agitated, can’t get him to sit still.”

“Thank you.” Dameon made his way down the sterile hallway towards the last chamber. The occupant prowled the edges of the room like an angry panther, he could almost see an imaginary tail twitching in agitation. When he knocked, the blond man whirled at the noise, teeth bared. He unlocked the door and entered the room palms up and passive. 

“What kind of prison is this? I have done nothing wrong!” His voice was heavy with a Slavic accent.

“I’m sure,” Dameon soothed, “it must be a mistake. My name is Dr. Ward. Let me check my charts, if I may?” The man continued to prowl but made no move to stop Dameon as he picked up the chart. “I am here to see a Tuon of Elysia...this is not you.”

“I am Yuri Sokolov, not Tuon that you speak. I demand to release!”

“Of course, of course!” Dameon wrote at the bottom of his clipboard. “Our mistake. Forgive me, but how did you come to be in this room?”

Yuri stopped pacing and a clouded expression crossed his face. “I...This I do not remember.” He snapped back into focus with a pointed glare. “Clearly there is incompetent in your facility, Dr. Ward.”

“I shall look into that, I assure you.” Dameon perched himself on the edge of the table. “Yuri, I’m concerned that you don’t remember coming here. If you’ll allow, I’d like to ask you some questions before we send you on your way.”

Yuri paused in contemplation. Dameon watched passively as the man assessed him. At last, Yuri came to a decision and seated himself on the bed with a shrug. “You seem honest man, Dr. Ward. I find myself is trusting in you. I answer your question.”

“Yuri, do you know what year it is?”

Yuri snorted. “Dr. Ward, I feel is you might be needing some help. It is 1183.”

“Good. Do you know who James Parsons is?”

“First you ask of Tuon, now of James. I know of neither these men.” Yuri looked momentarily confused. “Though perhaps I should? Seems familiar, somehow.”

Dameon made another note. “This unfortunately isn’t the first time we’ve had trouble with wrong patients in our building. Would you do me the favor of writing down everything you remember prior to coming here? It will help me to determine where things went wrong on our end.”

“I am hunter, not scholar. I do not write.”

“Of course. I shall get someone to scribe for you. But you will help me in this?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Yuri.” Dameon pulled some fresh paper from the back of the clipboard and placed it on the desk. The pages left from yesterday he gathered neatly and tucked into his folder. “Someone will be in shortly to document what happened, and then we’ll see about getting you home again.”

He let himself out, locking the door again behind him.

***

Dameon Ward shrugged into his labcoat and took the clipboard from the nurse waiting in his office. “How is he today?”

“I spent all morning trying to find a translator. He won’t stop shouting -- in  _ Japanese _ of all things.”

Dameon rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

When he reached the room where the blond man waited, the translator was just arriving. The men shook hands briefly. “Your nurse told me of the situation. Absolutely fascinating! I’m happy to be of assistance in your work, Dr. Ward.”

“Thank you. Shall we?” Dameon knocked gently to announce their presence and the two men entered. Almost immediately the blond man began to shout rapidly. Dameon looked at the translator, who was growing visibly more pale by the second.

“My goodness. His dialect is...well....my goodness. Very old, very old. I’m not sure I can even understand what he’s saying.”

“Anything at all?”

The translator paused a moment as he listened. “He’s...ranting about demons and ghosts, it sounds like. Bad visions....dreams, maybe? I think he believes himself to be hallucinating.”

Dameon almost laughed. “At last, we’re getting closer. Ask him what his name is.” The translator obliged and the man seemed to calm somewhat upon hearing his native tongue. 

“He says his name is Jiro Higashi, he’s a priest in Kyoto,” Dameon made a note.

“What is the year?” Another pause as the interchange took place.

“1423.”

“Does he know of James Parson?” The translator asked but there was no mistaking the negative shake of Jiro’s head. Dameon made a note and turned to the translator. “Would you be able to help with some written translation? I’ve been having him document his memories to try and find the root of his condition, and the devil’s in the details.”

“I’d be glad to help. Might I stay and speak with him further? It’s a unique opportunity to study the ancient dialects.” The translator sighed in amazement. “He’s not even Japanese, but his delivery is absolutely flawless!”

“Certainly, just let the attendant know when you’re ready to leave. Have him document everything he remembers on this paper, and I’ll collect it tomorrow for analysis.”

He left the two of them to speak and let himself out, locking the door behind him.

***

His name is James Rochester, naval officer of the British Fleet in 1842.

He is Jack Faris, a foreign agent in Germany during the war.

Jim, the stableboy to a viscount in London. 

Gianni the painter’s apprentice. Faregg the templemaster. Jace the pilot. Jay, Jared, Ando, Jed....

***

Dameon poured over folder after folder of materials he had gathered from the man in the room. The man who had come to him six months ago as James Parson, a college grad student who started having memories of other people after a rugby game. Dameon agreed to the man’s pleas to be held for observation, though that was not normal protocol. It was a good thing, because within a few days James Parson could no longer remember who he was.

Every day he exhibited a new persona, with a complete backstory and memories. Some were surreal, or seemed to follow timelines not congruent with the history books. Others were eerily close to true events of the past, with details no one could know without being there. Dameon had never seen anyone degenerate so quickly, and had never struggled so hard to find the thread undid the mind. He contacted the family and friends but no one could provide insight that was helpful.

So Dameon took note of each memory James exhibited, and tried to connect the dots on a multi-dimensional plane. There was a trend for names that began with J (with some exceptions) but beyond that he just couldn’t see. There was no timeline except that none of the personas appeared to have lived simultaneously, and the memories occurred in no particular order. He took on many nationalities, and spoke languages that sometimes there wasn’t a translator for. He spoke of magic as easily as he spoke of technologies that did not exist.

He needed to help James, in a way that went deeper than mere doctor-patient relations, in a way that kept him up at night and made him spend more time at work than at home and in a way that frightened him and drove him onward. He only hoped that a breakthrough would happen soon and that maybe the broken puzzle in the folders on his desk would suddenly have a reference picture to build from.

Dameon prayed.

***

Dameon Ward shrugged into his labcoat and took the clipboard from the nurse waiting in his office. “How is he today?”

She paused briefly. “Dr. Ward....he’s asking for you.”

That made him stop. “Really? He remembers me? This is fantastic, progress at last! I wonder what made it happen...” 

The nurse shivered and curled into herself. “Go see him. Something’s not right.” The fear in her voice sent him hurrying down the hall.

He saw what she meant as soon as he entered the room. The air around the man shimmered as though overheated, though there was a distinct chill in the room. Every now and again that displaced air held a second outline of the man, like bad reception on an old television. Dameon wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he knew with dreadful certainty that something supernatural and wrong was in that room.

“Dr. Ward, I’m so glad to finally talk with you.” The man smiled at him, and two hands - one real and one ghostly - gestured for him to sit. Dameon did, not trusting his knees to keep him upright. 

“Who are you?”

“I am the same man you spoke with yesterday, and the day before, and the day before.”

“Yesterday I spoke with a cowboy named Jake, the day before an Irish blacksmith name Iollan, and before that a Greek hoplite named Galen.”

“I am all of them, and they are all me.” He gave a half-smile and cocked his head. “Did you want to write that down, Dr. Ward?”

Dameon hastily scribbled on his clipboard, hardly able to take his eyes off the double-man standing serenely before him. “Then, what do I call you?”

“Jadeite.” He knelt before Dameon and reached his double hand towards the doctor’s face. Dameon flinched but could not find his voice to call for the attendants. Jadeite’s glittering blue eyes captivated him. “There are many things I can tell you, and they will seem surreal and unbelievable. But if you wish to save James Parson - like I do - then you must believe everything I say without question, and do what I ask of you, and when James is free again I will make it as though none of this has happened if that is your wish.”

Dameon could feel himself going under, the hypnotizing gaze of those eyes pouring into his soul and wiping free his fears and doubts. Rationally he knew he should be frightened, he knew that this was not normal and that he should be the one in charge in here, not this man who used to be his patient. Instead he nodded, put down his pen and whispered, “Tell me everything.”

“As you desire. First, you must seek out a man named Darien Shields. Bring him here, tell him I spoke to you and he is needed. When he arrives, we shall speak of everything.” Jadeite blurred again and a brief look of pain crossed his face. “You must hurry.”

Dameon fled the room, leaving the door unlocked.

***

The white pages had over 150 men listed, and Dameon felt his heart sink. This would take forever, and why was he listening to the requests of a strange spectral man who was supposed to be his patient anyway? Yet he scrolled through the list, and picked a name at random to start with. The area code was just outside of New York. Dameon’s hand shook as he dialed the number, rehearsing over and over again the speech he had prepared to try and convince this complete stranger to come make a visit to an insane asylum. Maybe he wouldn’t pick up, and he could just leave a voicemail and move on...

… “Hello?”

“Hi. Is this Darien Shields?” Start with the easy stuff first.

“Speaking.”

“My name is Dr. Dameon Ward, I work at St. Dymphna’s Psychiatric Clinic just outside Chicago.” He drew a deep breath and plowed forward. “I am working with a patient named James Parson, and it was indicated that someone by the name of Darien Shields could be of help in his treatment. Do you know James?”

“No, name doesn’t ring a bell. Must not be me you’re looking for, sorry.”

“How about Jadeite?” Dameon blurted. There was silence on the other end of the phone, and then - 

“What was the name of your clinic again? I’ll fly out tonight.”

He could hardly believe his luck, that the first Darien Shields he called was the same man he sought. Even more strange that he responded so quickly at the mention of Jadeite, but had no idea who James was. He needed answers, and tomorrow when Darien arrived, he would have them.

The next morning Dameon felt unfocused. He sat in his office pouring over everything he had gathered in the study of James Parson, knowing he would find no solutions and still searching for something that he could present to Mr. Shields, as though proving that he wasn’t as clueless as he felt. How could that man know anything more about his patient than Dameon did without ever meeting the man? The nurse knocked on his door.

“Sir? You have a Mr. Darien Shields to see you.” 

“Yes, thank you. Please show him in.” Dameon quickly shuffled his papers into place and stood, preparing himself.

He was not at all prepared for the man that walked in.

It was like looking in a mirror. Same black hair, though Darien’s was slicked and his own disheveled. Same approximate height, same almond-shaped blue eyes, same lanky gait to his walk. As the men stared at each other in shock Dameon searched for differences - his nose was a little thicker, Darien’s chin a little sharper - but the resemblance was uncanny and unsettling. The stalemate broke when Darien laughed and extended his hand.

“Well, that certainly explains something. Darien Shields, pleasure to meet you.”

“Dameon Ward. It does? Explain something, I mean.” Dameon shook his hand (same grip) and couldn’t throw the growing feeling he’d had since yesterday that he was swimming in waters too deep for him. And there were sharks. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“May I see him?” Dameon led him down the hallway. In the room, Jadeite/James flickered rapidly. A look of relief washed across the blonde man when Darien stepped into the room.

“He found you. That was fast.”

“These things work out for people like us.” Darien frowned. “You look like shit.”

Dameon cleared his throat emphatically. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk over my head to my patient. I asked you to come here because I was promised an explanation and a solution for how to heal this man’s illness, not to perpetuate it.”

“Every religion on Earth has myths regarding the soul and reincarnation. What is happening to this body,” Jadeite blurred and pulled into focus again, “is something like that. James Parson is a vessel to this spirit, but the fit is imperfect and all the accumulated memories of everyone I have ever been started to bleed through.”

“He sought you out because you are a vessel as well, Dr. Ward.” Darien looked uncomfortable. “Mine, in fact. Around the world there might be thousands of people who have varying degrees of compatibility, and somehow, inevitably, they group together. I can only guess that when things started to go wrong, James sought you out and trusted you because of the bond Jadeite and I share.”

“Oh. So you two are...” Dameon looked between the two. “Like, ancient star-crossed lovers or something? I remember some myth about that...”

“No!” Darien looked horrified and Jadeite started laughing. “No, but we are sworn to each other. Endymion is the protector of the soul of this planet, and I am one who protects him.”

“Enydmion. Your...spirit. That might have been me.”

“If circumstances had been different, yes.”

“My true vessel was destroyed in an unnatural way.” Jadeite explained. “Usually when a vessel dies, this spirit returns to the Gates of Time and awaits the next generation - we come as a set, you see. Endymion, myself, Nephrite, Zoisite, Kunzite, and others...all born together. But we didn’t die. Out bodies were destroyed but our spirits remained trapped on this plane, unable to return to the Gates for our next incarnation.”

Darien pulled a small silver box out of his pocket and opened it. On the velvet pillow inside lay four precious stones. Jadeite winced and shimmered in agitation.

“These are their bodies.” Dameon grasped at that. At last, something that sounded familiar!

“I’ve heard of that, actually. When you’re cremated they can turn you into a diamond or something. Didn’t know it worked for other stones too.”

“Not quite like that, but close enough.” Darien re-pocketed the silver box. “The problem is that if James Parson is deteriorating, it will start happening to the others too. And when they are completely gone, Jadeite’s spirit and all the others will migrate to the next set of vessels. And it will happen again. And again. Countless people subjected to memories that don’t fit, driven to insanity or worse because the spirits can’t escape to the Gates.”

“Then wouldn’t the solution be to destroy the rocks?” Dameon gave Jadeite an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I don’t want you to die but my primary concern is for James and his mental condition.”

“I am not offended, Dr. Ward.”

“It doesn’t work, anyway. We tried as soon as we realized they couldn’t move on.” Darien sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture that was startlingly familiar to Dameon, even as he tried to digest all the fantastical information being served. It suddenly struck him that if anything unnatural happened to Darien (and based on everything he was hearing, that was far from unlikely) that he himself might be sitting in James’ place someday, host to a spirit that didn’t quite fit. Suddenly finding a solution for James meant saving himself as well, and nothing makes a man fight more than survival instincts.

“If the bodies were deconstructed to rocks, then maybe there’s a way to reconstruct the bodies. I don’t know, build a sculpture or something, like a golem.” Dameon shrugged helplessly as the two men stared at him. “Just thinking out loud.”

“That might work. Or something similar. I need to check with some people...” Darien trailed off in thought. “Dr. Ward, if you’ll excuse me a moment.”

When he left, Dameon felt Jadeite watching him carefully. “This is a lot, Dr. Ward. You were not meant to be burdened with this.”

“Neither was James.”

“No, neither was James.”

Dameon looked hard at the image of the man shifting in the air. “And you said there were others. Right now, I don’t care how it happens but I will do everything I can to save James, the others, and myself. Your stories might be strange and yes, frightening too, but I can’t let that bother me if there’s a chance to fix what I couldn’t do in the past six months of therapy with him.” 

“And when they are all saved, will you choose to remember?”

Dameon smiled tightly. “Everyone is varying degrees of crazy already, what’s a little more? I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”


End file.
